


time won't fly, it's like i'm paralyzed by it

by walkinginthewinds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hospitals, M/M, Pregnancy, mentioned miscarriage, protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkinginthewinds/pseuds/walkinginthewinds
Summary: Harry lost his baby on a warm, spring morning. The sun had only been up for an hour that day, and it felt like it never rose again afterward. Neither of them saw it coming, and nothing felt quite the same afterward.Or the one where Harry has a miscarriage, and Louis is broken.





	time won't fly, it's like i'm paralyzed by it

**Author's Note:**

> Storytime: I was hacked???  
> Just kidding. I've decided after a lot of thinking to repost most of my fics. I deleted them at 2am in an angry, emotional hizzy and then of course woke up full of regret. SO. Minus a few of the older ones that were never really good anyway, here are my fics again. I apologize for all the e-mails you've gotten from me today. I'm going to just pretend I'm not upset over the lost comments and kudos. I'm fine. Really! Totally fine. But here they are again! Thank you for all the love you have given me. I’m not as invested in fic writing as I’ve been in the past, but who knows if I’ll get back into it.

Louis couldn’t think of anyone else he’d want to be married to than Harry.

 

They’d met in college, and they were attached at the hip ever since. The night Louis had put a ring on his finger was one of the happiest moments of his life. They were young and in love, and he saw the brightest future with his husband.

 

Harry was pregnant for ten weeks. They were planning the nursery already, ahead of the game for once. They were so _excited_. Louis had called his entire extended family and was giddy with excitement and nervousness and just everything. He had sisters, he had younger siblings, and he was so excited to have a small child of his own. Harry was doing yoga and making smoothies and telling everyone, from the Starbucks barista to the mailman to his students in his classroom, that he was pregnant with a little baby Tomlinson. He was having Louis’ baby; _they were having a baby_.

 

Harry lost his baby on a warm, spring morning. The sun had only been up for an hour that day, and it felt like it never rose again afterward. Neither of them saw it coming, and nothing felt quite the same afterward.

 

 

It happened almost two years ago, but it felt like yesterday. Louis remembered. He could never forget it.

 

He was at work, and so was Harry. An unfamiliar number had rung him, and he answered quickly enough; he was typing at an email at the same time and his mind was elsewhere, probably on what he was going to eat later. It took him ten minutes to get to Harry, ten minutes that felt like too long. Harry had fainted in front of his whole class and was rushed to the hospital, and as of then he was non-responsive. He was a first grade teacher, and he’d gone in early for work. Louis had kissed him goodbye sleepily just that morning, and Harry had forgotten his lunch at home. Louis was going to bring it to him. He was supposed to surprise him. They were supposed to have a baby.

 

“There was nothing you did wrong,” their doctor told Harry, who was weak against Louis’ chest. Louis would not let him go, would not climb off the too-small bed in the hospital, ignoring the orders from the nurses. Harry was shaking and pale, drawn and tiny. He didn’t look like himself; that scared Louis the most. Louis’ eyes flickered down every time Harry made a soft whimper, or when his hands moved down to his stomach protectively. Louis knew there was nothing inside him anymore. Their baby was gone.

 

 

Harry did not get out of bed for two weeks. He wouldn’t eat for the first week. He didn’t speak to Louis other than a whispered “Goodnight” when they tried to cuddle, but even cuddling felt wrong. Louis would leave a cup of tea and a sandwich, or a bowl of soup and crackers at the door, and he would come back up in the evening to a cold cup of tea, a sandwich gone bad. Louis threw away the wasted food every day, and then in the morning, he made a sandwich and a cup of tea again, in the hopes that Harry would eat it this time.

 

The second week, the teacup was drained, a few bites taken out of the sandwich. The only sign that Harry was up and alive was the shower running every other morning, soft footsteps padding from the bathroom to the bedroom. Other than that, Louis hadn’t seen or heard from his husband other than his hiding his face in the pillow when Louis finally went up for bed, Harry’s cold hands making him wince and try to hide under the covers. Everything hurt, and everything was hard to deal with.

 

When Harry cuddled up to him, it didn’t feel real. Harry seemed hesitant, afraid. He was thin, very thin. Louis wondered how much weight he’d lost. Louis would kiss him goodnight, and Harry would squeeze his hand, his eyes sagging. They wouldn’t speak about it. Louis didn’t know how to speak about it, and he wasn’t sure Harry did either.

 

 

“Love?” Louis whispered, squinting into the sudden brightness of their bedroom – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the lights on in there. Harry preferred being shrouded in darkness. It was always dark these days. Louis couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his husband laugh.

 

“I bled on the sheets,” Harry whimpered. His movements were quick, scared; the quickest Louis had seen him move since then. He was trying and failing to pull the blankets out from under Louis. (It was the first full sentence Harry had offered him since they’d gone home from the hospital.)

 

Louis blinked and breathed for ten beats. He stood up, pulling the blankets off the bed. He noticed a few spots of blood on Harry’s side, but felt no disgust, only worry. Bleeding was “normal” after a miscarriage - nothing felt normal anymore. He wondered how much Harry had been bleeding, how much he wasn’t telling Louis. How much physical pain he was in. Louis placed the blankets in the hamper, and Harry watched him wrap the comforter around his shoulders, saying nothing. He was so thin. Louis then took Harry’s dirty laundry from the corner of the room and put those on top of the hamper.

 

“Get some sleep,” he said softly. He wanted to badly to touch Harry, to hold him and kiss him and ask him to speak to him about something, anything. They were supposed to be a team, they were in this together. They’d lost a child, they’d lost a part of them, but they weren’t supposed to be freezing each other out. They were married; they were –

 

“I’ve been sleeping all week,” Harry whispered back. It was such a simple, Harry-like response. Louis wanted to laugh. The room was so tense, the air too thin. He couldn’t breathe.

 

He left the room and put the washing in the machine. The sight of Harry’s bloodied clothing was a physical reminder of what they had been through. He just felt like crying, but he didn’t have any tears left, and his eyes were swollen shut. Louis let himself sit on the ground, waiting for Harry’s clothes to be clean. He watched the washing machine spin in circles, waited until he saw no red left. He wanted to sit there until Harry was clean, as well, but he didn’t know how long that would take.

 

It took a half hour, but he finally climbed back up the stairs, and Harry was sitting up waiting for him.

 

“I feel so empty,” he whispered. Finally, finally.

 

Louis pulled Harry into his arms, tucked Harry’s head under his chin. They cried to each other, cried and cried and cried until they were dried up inside. Louis wanted to feel as empty as Harry felt, to take his pain away. Louis wanted him to feel whole again so badly. He wanted his boy back.

 

They didn’t speak much else through the night, but Louis woke up late the next morning with a warm body against his, and it was enough. He could feel every one of Harry’s ribs, his spine, his bony knees and ankles and hip bones poked into Louis’ as they held each other. He’d lost weight, he’d definitely lost weight. He didn’t look healthy. Louis pulled him closer anyway, held Harry together as close as he could.

 

When Harry finally woke, Louis asked him to go downstairs with him, to eat breakfast. Harry did, and he didn’t eat much, but Louis was proud of him anyway, even though Harry only ate a few bites of eggs, a sip of juice. Harry pushed his plate away, whispering a “Thank you” to Louis. Louis kissed his temple and dumped out Harry’s food while he showered. He heard Harry sobbing, and he didn’t know what to do. Harry dried himself off, his hair dripping down his back. He asked Louis to comb his hair, and they went back to bed after. It was only nine, and Harry was exhausted.

 

“Do you bleed a lot?” Louis asked the next day. He hadn’t spoken in a full tone of voice in so long. He’d forgotten how to speak without whispering, afraid the loud noise would set Harry off.

 

“Not really,” Harry said back, his voice just as low. He sounded tired. He sounded dead. Louis winced at the comparison.

 

“I’ll be okay.”

 

 

It took two weeks after that, but he finally got Harry to leave the house. They got iced teas, went for a walk. It was only an hour, but it was nice. Harry got anxious and panicked when there was so many people around, so they headed home. Louis held Harry in his arms later that day while Harry cried himself to sleep, his arms around Louis’ neck and his heart soaring away. Louis tucked his heart into Harry’s chest, tried to make him feel something again. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He hadn’t repeated these words since Harry had gone to the hospital, since their lives had changed forever.

 

Harry was depressed. There was no other way to describe it. Louis was hurting, and Harry was depressed. He wanted to talk about it. Harry didn’t. Louis was broken. Louis missed Harry’s smile. Louis missed him.

 

He wasn’t eating anymore. Not even small bites. Louis had to beg him to eat a few bites of salad, pasta, fruit slices. Harry told him he didn’t deserve to eat anything, that his body had killed their unborn child and that he wasn’t good enough to eat, and Louis cried in the shower until he couldn’t breathe.

 

Harry slept constantly. Sometimes he didn’t even want to leave the room to pretend to eat and watch telly, he just wanted to lie there in the dark. He cried so much he was becoming dehydrated, but he didn’t drink much water either. Louis was afraid. Harry was, for lack of a better word, Louis’ baby. Louis wanted to care for him, to tell him this wasn’t his fault. Losing a child was the worst possible thing to happen, especially for the carrier. Louis couldn’t begin to imagine the pain his husband was in. He had no idea, and Harry wouldn’t let him in. He’d lost twenty two pounds. Louis was losing weight too, out of concern and stress and worry.

 

It took a long time for Harry to heal. Physically, once he started getting out of bed and eating small, healthy meals, he got well again. He gained weight, just enough for Louis not to panic. He started going to therapy – they both did. They were learning and growing, learning to lean on each other and growing to understand what had happened to them.

 

 

A year had passed, and Harry had cried and cried and cried, wailing into Louis’ arms and hating himself, cursing himself. He was emptier than he had ever been before, and Louis could do nothing but let Harry cry and tell him how much he loved him. “I miss our baby,” Harry whispered.

 

“I miss you,” Louis whispered in reply, simply holding Harry tighter until he fell asleep.

 

Ten weeks later, Harry got pregnant again, and thirty-seven weeks later, on the dot, Harry was staring down at a tiny child in his arms, feeling Louis’ hands holding him close as they laid together in the hospital room.

 

In just two short days, Harry had giggled – it was a soft sound, never too loud. Louis watched fondly as Harry cradled their baby girl in his arms as he sat on the window seat, surrounded by pillows. The two of them watched the sun rise again.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated xo


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